


Rumors of My Demise have been Greatly Exaggerated

by Cosmicboredom



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Chernobyl (TV 2019) References, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Faked Suicide, Groundhog Day, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Meant To Be, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, almost, more like groundhog year
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:53:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26660206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosmicboredom/pseuds/Cosmicboredom
Summary: Valery thought he did everything exactly how it was supposed to go. But rather than wait to die of the radiation damage, he took matters into his own hands.When he wakes up, alive and well-rested, the next morning, he thinks it might have all been a very intense, very long nightmare.The telephone proves him so, so wrong.
Relationships: Valery Legasov/Boris Shcherbina
Comments: 14
Kudos: 38





	1. Survivor's Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> Literally, everything is on the tin. I have a small grasp on the tags, but I'm getting better every day! This is my first Valoris fic, so don't be afraid to help me out with some constructive criticism. I'm typically a Snarry shipper, but I freaking LOVE this pairing with my whole being. Comments are usually monitored, but I also answer rather swiftly. So... Balance?

Valery stood at the end of the alley, the night was so fresh and open. Not like those last few months in Pripyat. The air left him with a false sense of life, reinvigoration. It was time. There was nothing else to be done, the tapes were secured, along with a short letter for Comrade Shcherbina.

_ I had hoped you would come to defy them, but it seems that both time and age are against us. Live well. _

Yes, it was time.

He bounced on the balls of his feet, turning back to his apartment, ignoring the KGB agent watching from his black sedan. It was freeing, to take part in one last hurrah against the State, to have nothing but the truth holding him back. They wanted to erase him, and so they have, but this could not be forgotten easily. What they did  _ mattered. _

Much more than this excuse of a life.

And  _ that _ was the reason he wanted to do this; so many lives wasted, chances left unchecked, years to live taken as cruelly as they were given.

His hands still shook as he put down food for Sasha, his only companion in this prison that was once a home. He was certain they would not waste time, as soon as he was late to the Institute they would barge in and relieve the poor cat of Valery's grave. His neighbor would take her in, and she would live as happily as possible without him, if not for much longer. They were both old, he realized as Sasha rasped her meows at him. She would be comfortable for the last years of her life.

He gave her a reassuring pat on the head and turned away, he wouldn't be able to go through with it if he kept looking at her.

_ Fix your tie, dammit. You look ragged. _

Oh, yes… the tie. He straightened the fabric and pulled it tight against his throat. A precursor, he thought morbidly. He ran his hands over his jacket, it would not do to look like he was failing to care for himself. He does not wish to hurt anyone, least of all the only man who ever took him seriously.

The last cigarette sat in his crystal ashtray, and he picked it up for the last drag. Steeling his nerves for the final leap.

He woke up to the phone ringing. He had a strange dream, that there was no more hope in the world and he was always alone. But the bright sunlight told him that it was, in fact, just a dream. All the color in his world was bleeding back into his vision.

He groaned as his body protested his movement. Had he really slept through the day?

The phone rang again and he got up, walking through the apartment like a dead-man freshly arisen. Finally, he picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"This is Valery Legasov?"

He closed his eyes.  _ It was happening again. _

"Is this Valery Legasov?!"

"Y-yes."

"You are the Legasov who is First Deputy Director of the Kurchatov Institute of Atomic Energy?"

"Yes."

"This is Boris Shcherbina, Deputy Chairman of the Council of Ministers-"

"I know who you are, tell me that Chernobyl hasn't had an accident.  _ Please. _ " Valery cut the Chairman off, squeezing the pocket of his pants. _ Please don't tell me I have to go through this again. _

Silence met his words.

"Chairman, please tell me that the radiation isn't 3.6 roentgen." Valery urged, desperate now.

"Professor, you are required to attend a meeting with General Gorbachev. We will convene at two in the afternoon."

"God, please.  _ Boris, _ tell me that we are looking at a routine inspection, that there isn't black rock on the roof.  _ Tell me whether or not I'm going to risk my life for my country. _ "

"I am told there is no need to panic, the fire has been mostly put out."

_ God, no. _ It was happening again.

"Do  _ not  _ let them send us to Pripyat, do whatever you have to. If we set foot in that city,  _ if we breathe that air, _ we will be dead in five years."

" _ Legasov, _ you are called to be an expert on nuclear reactors. These are things that you should be debriefing to the whole Committee."

"Fine, I'll be there." Valery bit out and hung up. He began packing almost immediately, and when an unmarked black sedan pulled up the street, he rushed out to meet them. "Put this in the boot, I will be needing it before the end of this meeting." He barked at the peon in the driver's seat.


	2. Black Masks and Gasoline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time Valery holds his tongue.

Sitting in that fucking chair again was agony.

He didn't even read the report that the nice secretary gave him, he knew far too well what it would say. After all, he had spent the last eighteen months of his life re-reading each word. For half a second, he wondered if his tapes had done the damage he had hoped for, changed the world he left behind. If all his work mattered, if he had told the truth in time.

Minutes passed by while he sat in the opulent hallway of the same government building, contemplating the existential consequences of his choices. Where had he gone wrong? What had he done right? How was he supposed to navigate the same disaster that ruined his life? The only thing he knew for certain was that Boris Shcherbina was  _ not _ allowed in the city of Pripyat, or anywhere close to the accident. And, failing that, Valery would make sure every precaution was taken to prevent radiation sickness.

Boris had a daughter, and a grandson, to look after. Valery would move heaven and earth to preserve that.

"Professor Legasov, they are ready for you now."

The sense of déjà vu overwhelmed him, even as his legs and feet carried him into the conference room. He could  _ still _ feel the shock and horror from the last time he made this walk. And the same set of faces greeted him, only a few had names that he could remember. Charkov, the head of the KGB; Gorbachev, the General Secretary of the Central Committee; Tarakanov, Deputy Chief of the Civil Defense Staff; and Boris Shcherbina, Deputy Chairman of the Council of Ministers. Every other face had stayed away from him, desperate not to jeopardize their careers on transparency.

Well, science was never in bed with politics.

_ Fuck. _ He didn't want to think about  _ that _ right now. The blush on his face spread down his neck and shoulders, making him shiver in the cold room.

He frowned and stopped at the end of the table, he was still so very used to sitting beside Shcherbina that he couldn't imagine why there wasn't room for him. Gorbachev gestured to the empty seat on the left and he nodded before sitting beside a bored-looking man with pure white hair. An unbidden thought crossed his mind;  _ was my hair that white? _

"Thank you all for your duty to this Commission. We will begin with Deputy Chairman Shcherbina's briefing, and then we'll discuss next steps if necessary." The General Secretary said, and the room turned to their copies of the same report in Valery's clenched fist.

_ Please, God. Let anyone but me say it. Let someone else be just as terrified as I was. _

"Thank you, General Secretary." Shcherbina answered, sitting back in his chair. "They tell us the situation in Chernobyl is stable. Professor Valery Legasov of the Kurchatov Institute of Atomic Energy has been brought in to assess the  _ real _ damage, as we have not made confirmation of our own." All eyes turned to Valery, who in turn stared resolutely at the report. "Professor, you have seen my report, yes?"

He nodded, and then bit his tongue. Hopefully the pain will remind him not to antagonize their superiors. "Yes," he cleared his throat. The tie felt too close on his Adam's apple, he struggled to breathe. "There is black rock  _ outside _ the reactor, which comes from  _ inside _ the core. Which concerns me, and perhaps, I should like to launch an inquiry."

"Is this the only statement on which you base your concerns?" Gorbachev asked, and then pinned Valery with his stare.

Shcherbina shook his head. "I did a little digging, Mikhail. 3.6 roentgen is the maximum limit on the lowest technology, it is entirely possible that even the plant staff do not know the full effect of the explosion."

Valery frowned again,  _ how could any of this be going right? _ Glancing over, he could see Shcherbina's tense shoulders relax a little. Meanwhile, Gorbachev was nodding, trusting perhaps too quickly. All of this was extremely suspicious in Valery's mind. Was it  _ really _ so simple? Or, he thought as he took another glance in Boris' direction, was this another political trick?

"And foreign press?" The General Secretary asked.

"Totally unaware," Boris nodded to the man across from him.  _ Charkov. _ Valery's skin crawled. "KGB First Deputy Chairman Charkov assures me that all security interests are successfully protected."

"Good, then I want a fully updated report on my desk by tomorrow morning." Gorbachev said happily. "Meeting adjourned." Stunned, Valery watched as each Committee member stood and filed out of the room, leaving him with a scowling, upset and angry Shcherbina. The silence left behind settled uncomfortably, and another flash of familiarity fell into his gut, making him feel sick.

Boris let out a heavy sigh, looking him over. They stared at each other, Valery waiting for their next move while Boris seemed to be chewing on foul words, if his frown was anything to go by. In the waiting, Valery began calculating how much of his situation he could divulge. The man across from him hardly believed his words in the previous world, how was it possible that this world would be different?

_ I fought this fight before. _ He thought to himself in the empty silence.  _ I bought their lies last time and in return, I lost my whole life. What purpose does this serve? What purpose did  _ I _ serve? _

"Comrade Legasov," Boris barked at him, making him jump out of his skin. He forgot how forceful Boris used to sound. "You should know, it's not the first time someone has tried to embarrass me like that. I have been part of the apparatus for over forty years, men like you come along all the time. But I never remember their names."

Valery bristled, those were  _ the same _ words he'd heard almost two years ago. It felt like a whole other world now though.

Boris looked down at the report as he continued speaking. "Do you have a plan?"

Valery felt the weight of the Soviet Union drop onto his shoulders again. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he thought about what they  _ should _ do first. "We ought to begin with the fire."


	3. Audience of One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A show of hands from this audience of one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know that Boris isn't an agent for other agencies, but that's my headcanon . :3  
> Seriously though, how do you work for any place for forty years without having a legitimate reason? And yea, I know that Russia has a strict set of policies and stuff. Believe me, I've been doing my research. But still, if MI6 was going to infiltrate the Soviet Union, they would go for someone high up in the ranks. Maybe... I dunno... Someone close to Gorbachev? XD

It was hard to keep staring at the words on his notepad when they kept swimming and dancing right before his eyes. Of course, he knew that he was tired- exhausted, even- but that didn't make it any easier to get his mind to shut  _ down. _ Then he would stop, smirk at the irony of that thought, and look up at the man with which he was undertaking this quest again. Boris was not different at all. Not that Valery expected the universe to change  _ that _ much. 

Everything was the same, if not better than last he could remember. Boris' hair seemed to shine brighter, his skin looked healthier. No more was the death rattle in that broad chest, heard by untrained ears only when he coughed or drank. No more did Valery find chunks of dark brown and grey hair in inauspicious places. And Boris was still as gorgeous and vivacious as the first time Valery  _ ever _ saw him.

_ I mean, both of them threatened me right away, _ Valery reasoned, even as he omitted the fact that the threats were different.  _ Boris Shcherbina is an intimidating man in  _ any _ reality. _ Simply put, he would rather stay here with his friend than go home. He was afraid this was some sort of death-dream, showing him what his "heaven" was like before sending him straight to "hell." And he could hardly prove either were real!

The natural scientist in him  _ desperately _ wanted to explore the implications of his resurrection, but he  _ knew _ there were more important obstacles in front of him.

He also knew that he would have to direct the accident's cleanup with finesse. Knowing what was wrong and stopping it are, in fact, two  _ very _ different things. The boron and sand were already being shipped to the site, and Valery had a false realization that the firefighters must have left their hoses on. Which leads to the bubbler pools filling up again and therefore causing a third, deadlier explosion. Boris took  _ that _ information directly to the General Secretary not long after Valery had explained  _ exactly _ what would happen.

But the lies were part of the issue.

How was he supposed to push for a worldwide address when he couldn't even get the Kremlin to believe it? And with Gorbachev asking him to write the address notes, he was certain he would need further help.

When Boris returned with lunch and sat down close by, Valery decided enough was enough.

"I have never been good at lying, Comrade." He began, and then cleared his throat. "No, that's not true. I lied for the Institute, and I lied for loved ones. But lying to my peers and colleagues, it has never had to come to this."

"The world doesn't always need to approve of what you do," Boris chuckled as if this was  _ deeply _ amusing.

Valery felt his cheeks burn with mild embarrassment. "My point is that we should be transparent. Show them that the Soviet Union has a humanitarian interest in the disaster, while also  _ being _ sincere. Our people will suffer if we don't." He pushed his notes towards the Ukrainian. "Just consider it, and if it backfires, I'll take the blame. Your career would be safe and Chernobyl will be taken care of by Comrade Pikalov and you."

Boris stared at the notepad, reading  _ right then and there; _ Valery could watch as those steely eyes flicked between his words. He only hoped he had written clearly enough to be legible. "Is this the report Mikhail  _ told _ you to write?"

Valery frowned, his brows furrowed. "No…"

"It'll do." Boris took the notepad and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Valery's frown deepened. "Eat, Valery. Coffee and cigarettes cannot sustain you for much longer."

"This is what I'm supposed to tell the West?" Mikhail Gorbachev exclaimed and Boris felt his hackles rise.  _ "This?!" _

"It is the truth. You said you wanted a full report, this is the shortest version I could wrangle from him." Boris growled.

"Yes, but  _ this, _ this is- madness,  _ career-ending." _

"Valery Legasov is the top scientist in his field, he has claimed full responsibility for this report. Do you doubt his work?" A heavy sigh made Boris relax, Mikhail would soon bend. "He recommends that we are clear about what has happened, that we may need resources from other familiar countries."

"Did he mention the Americans, specifically?"

Boris shook his head. He knew where Mikhail was going with this line of questioning. And while Legasov was  _ odd, _ Boris felt like the scientist was truly trying to  _ help _ the Soviet Union. Besides, what information agency would send someone like  _ that _ to infiltrate the Communist bloc? Not bloody likely, since Boris,  _ himself, _ was supposed to be gathering that information, they would have  _ told _ him.

" _ And a further exclusion zone should be expanded to 30 full kilometers, rehousing the sixty million in the area will be difficult.  _ What is he talking about?" Mikhail recited and jarred Boris out of his musings.

"The plume of smoke is carrying over into the Gomel district, Legasov is thinking of the cost of lives."

"No." Gorbachev said definitively. "Those are our people; if we ship them away, where will we obtain the workforce?"

"We have an extensive military force. I do not think we should leave this work to ordinary citizens anyhow."

Legasov looked like a wrung-out towel when Boris saw him next, sitting on the settee at the front of the building. So weary and ready to jump at the slightest sound. His strawberry-blonde hair was a darker shade, and limp like someone was consistently sucking the life out of him. The cigarette in the scientist's lips bobbed as he read to himself. Boris worried, the poor man was obviously working himself to death on a regular basis, Chernobyl was just taking what was left.

The scientist looked up at him as he approached, his mouth set in a permanent frown. "How did it go?"

Boris stayed silent until he stood right beside the lounge chair. "It went better than expected."

Legasov's frown deepened.

"The General Secretary approved your address," Boris said. "He will be talking on Vremya tonight and then he will go to Vienna for assistance."

"That's it?"

"What more did you expect?"

Legasov opened his mouth for a moment, and Boris thought he looked like a permanently surprised goldfish. Then the man looked down at his shoes. The behavior bothered Boris to no end.

"What?"

Legasov shook his head and gave Boris a ghost of a smile. "Just thought I'd be in Lubyanka by now. I suppose I will start looking for the plant workers who can empty the bubbler pools."

Boris gaped at the scientist.  _ What did he know that Boris didn't? _


	4. The Approaching Curve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charkov's eyes are everywhere

Valery opened his apartment door and Sasha greeted him almost immediately, letting out raspy meows, begging for food. He felt a pang of guilt, he had laid out a few bowls of cat food but he had been gone longer than it would last. Well, it wasn't like he expected to stay at the Kremlin for three whole days.

He just needed a respite. Some sleep, a good cigarette break (which he considered to be at least thirty minutes, not the ten that Shcherbina had been allowing) and perhaps some food not prepared at a restaurant. He picked up his poor cat, relieved that she wouldn't have to endure the radiation that he brought home, and moved to the kitchen. It was just then, as he pulled out another bowl of food and put it on the floor, that a knock on his door reverberated through his small apartment. Valery let out a choice swear word, his favorite. Then he stomped back to the entrance, and threw open the door.

_ "What?" _ He hissed with no small amount of venom. Boris Shcherbina didn't look even  _ slightly _ bothered by his irate tone, instead looking around the stairwell as if  _ it _ was about to offend him. "What are you doing here?" Valery reiterated with a softer note to his voice.

"I thought I should see where our resident Scientist lived. Of course, we will be sharing many spaces together."

Frustration fell over him like a blanket.

"I will be quick, Professor. You look dead on your feet." Boris laughed a little. The sound was so carefree, Valery felt his heart light up.

Nodding, he stepped back to let the Deputy Chairman inside, and closed the door behind him. "I just got in."

Boris' face had changed in those few seconds that Valery had his back turned, it was hard and calculating. Valery felt affronted for a long moment. "It is nice." The man said, lifting a finger to his lips.  _ Be quiet.  _ Then Boris walked over to his telephone and cracked it open, pulling out a small device connected to his receiver. Valery gaped at him. Clearly, Boris had gone mad.

Boris scowled at the offending piece of tech and clenched it in his fist. "Charkov and his toys." The man muttered by way of explanation. Valery just shut his mouth, nodded, and put his telephone back in working order.

"That's the only phone here," Valery whispered.

"Then I'm going to search the rest of the apartment, stay here."

Boris stalked into Valery's bedroom, opening his wardrobe and rifling through his suits. There was another bug, Boris showed it to him. Then the Ukrainian disappeared, only to reappear with two more. Next, Valery's bathroom was inspected, there were  _ three. In his bathroom. _ He shuddered to think of what they anticipated hearing in there. And then his office had another in his lampshade. Boris returned to the living room with eight small devices with little cord tails, and then held up his other hand.  _ Two more. Where? _

"Seems you have settled nicely here in Moscow. Have you ever left Russia?" Boris asked loudly as he went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.

"I've been in Romania, but not for very long. Is this your first visit?" Valery answered coolly. Of course, he knew that Boris had been in many countries, his job kept him on his feet. But he also knew that  _ this _ Boris had never told him before.

"I have spent many years abroad, even found an apartment in my home country. But the last ten or twelve years have been spent here at the Kremlin, they provide me with dwellings wherever I may go."

"Ah,"

Finally, the last bug was found. In his ceiling fan of all places. Boris opened a window and threw all of them across the street.

"Privacy at last." Valery said cheekily. "Is that all then?"

Boris looked at him, his face was made of stone. "Who are you?" He asked forcefully.

Valery blinked. He was the same man as always. "I'm-I'm not sure where you are going with this…" The Deputy Chairman growled and took two steps before he stood towering over Valery.

"I'm not going to ask a third time." Was growled into his face.

Valery opened his mouth, in astonishment, then closed it and frowned.  _ Deeply. _ "You have my file, Comrade."

Bared teeth threatened him. "Files do not make the man,  _ Comrade. _ "

He hissed back. "I have little obligation to  _ you, _ Deputy Chairman." Then he met Shcherbina's fiery gaze with his own burning rage. How dare this man assume? Valery was indebted to a man that no longer existed; and  _ this _ man hadn't exactly made it easy to build any relationship, working or otherwise.

A low  _ mrrow _ broke into their argument. Shcherbina turned to look at the cat and raised his eyebrows. "Name?" He asked while flicking a finger at her.

"Sasha," Valery spat and backed away from the man. "I think you should leave, Comrade. I will return to the Committee tomorrow."

The man frowned at him. But nodded all the same. "They will be back again, Legasov, watch what you say." Boris slammed the door on the way out.

The air rang with unsaid words, leaving Valery with a gaping emptiness in the house. He quickly stepped to the window to look out, and five minutes later, Shcherbina was walking stiffly to an unmarked black car. A government car. Valery seethed.

"Your counterpart was  _ far _ less irritating, Boris Shcherbina." He grumbled to himself.

Valery walked to the newsstand the next morning, dressed in his thick sweater and blazer, with purpose. The confrontation of the night before rattled the hell out of him, and he responded to his anxiety by chain-smoking for hours. Unable to sleep, sit or eat, he paced his living room while his cat watched him with interest.

Underneath all the wool, he was still seething. He barely spoke to the man selling papers, only opening his mouth to thank him, and he frowned the whole way back to his apartment.

As he rounded the corner, though, he caught a glance at a man walking out of his building. Tall, wearing dark clothes, avoiding eye contact, the man hurried by him so fast that Valery once could have thought it was a ghost. He stopped and looked up at his apartment window,  _ did they come back to plant new listening devices? _ Then Valery turned to look at the man again and there was no one on the street with him. 

A car turned over then peeled off in the opposite direction, burning gas inefficiently and causing a scene. He hurried back up to his door and turned the knob, his breath- short already from the run up the stairs- catching in his throat like a knife.

_ He distinctly remembered locking the door before leaving. _

His fist clenched down on the doorknob, his breath came shorter and his knees felt weak.  _ Someone _ had broken into his  _ home. _ While he had been gone, in  _ twenty-five minutes. _

He slammed the door open, rushing in to pack what was necessary to his work now and in the future. He packed clothes. He packed food. He even bundled Sasha into a carrier, and then left. He didn't even bother to close his door,  _ they _ didn't bother that it was closed in the first place.

With two suitcases, and Sasha's carrier, in hand, he stalked to the nearest bus station and as luck would have it, boarded the next one to come along seconds after he'd arrived. He put Sasha in the seat beside him and looked around. No one  _ seemed _ to be following him yet. But he couldn't take a whole lot of chances.

_ Where could he go? _

The answer came to him as the bus drove him past it; a hotel, one close to the Kremlin. Charkov wouldn't expect him to be closer to the government in a time like this. He stopped the bus shortly thereafter and gathered his cat and things, getting off nearly a block from the hotel he saw. The Kremlin building was only a fifteen minute walk from here, it would serve his purpose greatly.

Valery paid for the room, for the night at least, and went up to get Sasha situated for the stay.

Checking his watch and deciding that he was already fairly late for the Committee (and hoping that Boris could manage on his own), he sat heavily upon the queen-sized bed afforded to him.

He sat there for God knows how long, staring and smoking. Sasha tried, in her own way, to get his attention but he couldn't help but  _ think. _

_ Why? _

_ What were they listening for? _

_ Why didn't they trust him? _

_ Was this what Boris had been trying to tell him? _

_ Did they know about his previous life? _

Valery spent the day pacing, and when he wasn't pacing, he was going over his report. It had to be  _ perfect, _ especially because he had avoided a very crucial meeting. One that would put his career and life on the chopping block.

If Charkov managed to convince the Committee that he defected today, then he was dead upon arrival.

_ Finally, _ he spread himself over the bed in an attempt to get some sleep. Sasha even came over and curled up atop his belly to help him. Sleep still seemed to evade his grasp.

He remembered how Boris used to get him to sleep; drinking, talking until he caved, and simply forcing him to lie beneath the blankets. Sometimes all Boris had to do was touch him, hold his shoulder tightly, and once Valery had had enough of the silence and Boris' silent request, he would gladly crawl into the bed and let Boris hold him (or hold him down). Now…  _ now, _ it was like he couldn't enjoy sleep without all of that. Without Boris caring for him.

It was frustrating. Because  _ this _ was not his world, and he felt like a stranger in it. Not to say he didn't feel like one in his past life, but in this one, he was a  _ complete _ stranger.

And there was something about this Boris Shcherbina that Valery couldn't put his fingers on. Something more complex than nuclear fission, something he didn't understand. And there was still a lot that he didn't understand about the situation, it bothered him every time he sat down to think about it.

Sasha purred at him, her yellow eyes fixed on his face as if he  _ was _ a stranger. He furrowed his brows at her.

"You don't get a say in these things." Valery said to the mostly empty room but directed it at the cat. She blinked but continued to stare.

_ You smell the same, you act the same. But you don't belong here. _

"I know, but I don't have a choice in this either."

Sasha's tail landed on him hard.

"I'll figure it out, girl. You know I will." Valery sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "I'm still the same man, inside and out."


	5. Chamber the Cartridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lesson to learn at a crucial point in time,  
> What's mine was always yours and yours is mine.

Valery would have considered it a miracle if he had slept more than three hours.

But he didn't.

And by the time anyone from the Central Committee could be found out and about so early, he was already outside the Kremlin building. Sitting on a bench with a paper, a coffee, and a cigarette or twelve.

He was nervous, yes. But he was also careful; he made sure that there was no one parked outside the hotel before making his trek over, and even took a long route to shake any followers. The sun had come up before he actually made it to the building, and he was trying to stay warm in the early Spring morning.

And he was just about to finish the paper when Boris arrived, the first to actually show up to the building besides Valery.

"We missed you yesterday. Mikhail was showing actual concern if it pleases you to know." The Ukrainian growled at him softly.

Valery barely looked up from the article he was reading. "I came down with a touch of the flu, nothing to be worried about really."

Boris grunted at him, and then heavy boots crunched up snow to sit beside him. He put down his paper but denied Boris the attention he wanted by grabbing his coffee and lighting another cigarette. He could feel, rather than  _ see, _ Boris sigh just as heavily as his boots fell against the ground.

"I am sorry if I offended you, Professor Legasov. You must understand, I am responsible for every action you take. I simply wished to know what kind of man I am sticking my neck out for." Boris said quietly, and Valery turned to face him out of shock. The man had been nothing but rude to him, for whatever good reason he had. What good would an apology do? Valery obviously wasn't interested in playing games, not now that he  _ knows _ what happens in the end. Political games never fared well, Valery's death had been evidence for that, so what was the game  _ now? _

"I do understand, Boris, believe me." He muttered and the man seemed to twitch at the sound of his voice. As if he hadn't expected Valery to say anything at all.

"Then why did you avoid me yesterday?"

Valery opened his mouth then closed it.  _ Avoid him? _ "What?"

"I called, and called. And then I sent my driver to check on you." Boris said, and an air of danger fell onto the street. "He found your apartment wide open. You were gone, Sasha was gone,  _ your work was gone. _ "

"I-"

"And I called the Institute, they said you hadn't been there in days." Boris shrugged and sat back. "Which I suppose is my fault, but one can hardly blame me. So then, where were you?"

"I wasn't avoiding you, Boris!" Valery yelled. His voice echoed off the walls around them, shouting back at him in horribly distorted ways. He instinctively flinched at the sound, his words hadn't needed to be so forceful since the phone call. Lowering his voice  _ considerably, _ he continued through clenched teeth; "I was avoiding  _ them." _

Silence fell in behind his words, making their impact much more devastating. And he sat back with his coffee as if he hadn't meant to end all of Boris' questions. The cigarette in his hand shook, and he brought it to his mouth for nothing else but to quell the shaking. He let out a shaky exhale too, but it could be attributed to the cold as much as his anxiety.

Boris looked as lost as he felt, if not a bit angrier. And Valery, knowing the pit in his chest with such a familiarity, began to apologize. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I didn't know you would be sent to look after me." He said quickly, looking down. "But I had to make sure I hadn't been followed. You told me to be careful."

"Legasov, I meant that they are watching you closely… not that you should disappear from the face of the planet. While no one has been able to figure out how you managed to achieve that, they will be watching much more now than before. You do understand how difficult that will make our jobs, don't you?"

Valery nodded as he drew on his cigarette again. He didn't  _ like _ being chastised by Boris, but it would probably be better this way. "I will tell them that I fell sick. Yes?" He asked, looking away from his hands, from his lap, his eyes searched the other side of the street. "I suppose I will be punished. By Charkov himself, no doubt."

"I do not know what will happen after today's meeting." The Ukrainian admitted. Valery scoffed and threw his cigarette into the snow at their feet.

"That's the cruelest irony." He muttered to himself bitterly. Then he sighed. "Deputy Chairman, would you do me an honor this evening, and go to this hotel," he pulled out the matchbook he'd stolen from his room. "To collect my cat and personal effects? I may be too busy to do it myself, I'm afraid." He added bitterly as he pulled out a pen for his room number. Then he gave the matchbook and his room key to Boris, who took them gingerly. As if touching would electrocute them to the bone.

"I-I will do everything in my power to help you, Valery," Boris said quietly. Valery couldn't help the sad smile that forced its way through his careful mask.

Boris would always be his champion against the political worlds; in this, nothing had changed. "I know you will, Boris."

Two hours later, Boris watched from the front desk of the building as Valery Legasov was escorted away by a team of faceless men. He hoped that they would return with his scientist soon, though deep in the pit of his stomach, he could feel terror trying to dig into him. What would they  _ do _ to Legasov? There had been no breach of security, Legasov didn't run to the Western governments and reveal the entire workings of the Soviet Union. Not that that nerd could have any  _ understanding _ of how the Soviet Union even ran. There was little to no sense in the man for him to run in the circles Boris was used to. But Boris had heard much of the underhanded dealings and the torturing that the KGB was capable of, not from just the streets among his people but from ambassadors and delegates. Hell, even the Americans were afraid of them.

Valery didn't deserve any of that. Especially not for being a frightened, naive fool.

An hour passed, then two. Then three while Boris waited and waited. Finally, he turned away, certain that they would have dropped Valery off at his apartment. Why would they take him from this building only to bring him back?

He clenched his jaw as he stormed out of the building, barreling out into icy wind and snow. When he reached the street, and his driver began to pull around to pick him up, he looked up at the sky. It would be getting colder through the night. His gaze fell to the bench where he first spotted Valery that morning and wondered.

Was the radiation able to reach them here?

"Drive me to this hotel." He barked at the driver as he got into the car. He wouldn't see Valery until Charkov decided to release him.


End file.
